


That One Time Oikawa Ruined Christmas

by hydrasplatling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Funny, M/M, Short & Sweet, christmas shenanigans, hilarious banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrasplatling/pseuds/hydrasplatling
Summary: Title speaks for itself. Oikawa and Iwaizumi both can't subdue themselves long enough to wrap some presents.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	That One Time Oikawa Ruined Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so, this is a fic from 2015 that I pulled up from the depths of my drive in hopes of finding completed works. So, I figured I'd touch it up a bit and post it since I never got to when I was fully entrenched in the hq!! fandom. I hope some current fans will be able to appreciate it, please let me know! <3

Iwaizumi doesn't even know how it happened.

One minute, he was wrapping gifts for the vast amount of family members that would be visiting them tonight. The next? He was fucking Oikawa into the red and green Christmas tree skirt, decorated with tiny, yarn santas, against the tall box of a race car toy.

They hadn't even bothered to strip beyond hastily unzipping Iwaizumi's trousers (the zipper had gotten stuck sideways and was nearly ripped right off its hook) and tearing off Oikawa's slacks, tossing them with scant regard to whether or not that ripping sound was of fabric or not. 

Oikawa's nimble fingers find Iwaizumi's dark locks, holding on as if for dear life as the latter begins to push his cock forward, bypassing that tight ring of muscle and sliding deeper, deeper, and Oikawa is struggling to now find his breath.

“Hajime,” it spills from his lips in that rich, honeyed voice Iwaizumi likes, and it earns him a prompt bite at the joint between his neck and shoulder, hard and sharp before Iwaizumi brings his lips forward and begins to suck slowly, rolling his tongue over the flesh. The mark he leaves behind is faint but burns ardently.

Iwaizumi’s pace is slow like it always is, taking his sweet time pushing and pulling tantalizingly, making Oikawa feel every single inch as he moves. He knows that Oikawa loves it this way at first; he likes to savor the feeling of his cock and take this time to _glorify_ him. Iwaizumi braces himself for the prattling.

A firm hand slides against the curve of Oikawa’s navel, his button-up pooling at Iwaizumi’s wrist as it moves higher. “Fuck, right there, baby,” _here it comes,_ Iwaizumi thinks, “I love it when you fuck me like this, nice and slow. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me against the _floor_ \--”

Iwaizumi’s gruff voice interrupts him, “It’s your fault. I don’t know how I ended up with my dick out, but I know you did it, you always do.” His other hand moves to Oikawa’s thigh, sliding up mid-way and pushing it down to keep Oikawa spread apart. He knows he doesn’t need to, because Oikawa is happy to be open and pliant for him any day, any hour, but it’s the principle of it that gets Iwaizumi excited.

It makes him feel like he has control.

A lot more than he actually does.

“Nuh-uh. This time, it was all you. I just wanted to wrap presents for th-- oh, oh, _baby, that feels so good!_ ” Iwaizumi’s cock pushes upward on a thrust forward, pressing on that wonderful bundle of nerves inside him that has him arching, sending a spate of moans spiraling out of his mouth. Iwaizumi is all kinds of delighted at the sight. 

“You wanted to wrap presents my ass--”

“ _My_ ass.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Tooru.” 

Oikawa giggles breathlessly as his head falls to the side, trying to bring his hips up and try to meet Iwaizumi’s, teeth coyly nipping at his lip. His half-lidded eyes scroll over however much of his beautiful lover he can see in this position, although covered by his dress shirt: his chest, the prominent abdominal muscles, and just below it the thin happy trail leading to his groin, poking out from the spaces of the undone buttons at the bottom. Oikawa reaches over to let a fingertip lazily trace along Iwaizumi’s stomach under his shirt in a zigzag pattern, just so he can touch him.

Oikawa’s gentle touch turns into rough fingernails when Iwaizumi snaps his hips forward, quickening his pace (plastic from the box Oikawa is leaning on crumples and wrinkles, but neither of them care to notice) and begins to mouth along his jugular, forcing Oikawa to tip his head back to let the other have his fun with the front of his neck. He’s relentless, kissing and sucking at all the familiar spots he remembers, pulling noise after noise from the other’s lips. 

Iwaizumi’s other hand now moves to Oikawa’s hair, gripping the locks hard, his knuckles bumping against the base of his skull to keep his head back. “Tooru,” he mindlessly utters, and even though the same word has left Iwaizumi’s lips countless times Oikawa can never, ever get enough of how melodious it sounds. “Tooru, you sound so good, moaning instead of running your mouth. Keep making those pretty noises for me.”

And boy, does he. Oikawa never really learned how to shut up. His volume increases, entirely out of his control, each repetition of the phrases “Hajime.” “Fuck, yes!” and “More, more!” becoming louder and higher-pitched than the last. 

Iwaizumi decides to pick up the pace; it doesn’t seem that appropriate to have slow, passionate sex when you’re half-clothed and on the floor, surrounded by tape, scissors, and gift-wrapping paper.

A strangled noise leaves Oikawa, albeit how hard he tries to purse his lips to keep it muffled, and he struggles to manage a coherent sentence, “Shit, if you keep fucking me like that, I’m gonna--”

“You wanna cum, baby?” Iwaizumi only asks to interrupt Oikawa’s spiel, and for the reaction. His lips slide up the side of his neck, leaving kisses in disarray over his flesh until he reaches just below his ear, purring, “Do you?”

Oikawa’s teeth anchor into his bottom lip, nodding his head feverishly and “Harder, come on, make me cum all over my stomach, make a mess out of me, fill me up good, please!” 

With a whimper, Oikawa ruts his hips back desperately, jaw-slack and salivating from the pleasure. His hand searches for something to grab, to keep himself steady because he’s sure he’s going to start shifting forward from the force of Iwaizumi’s thrusts. His fingers find something hard and standing vertically, and he immediately grabs on and- for all that is holy- _pulls._

And that’s when the Christmas tree toppled over.


End file.
